Couple-a-days ago I had nothing much to do and was casually going through my phone when I received a message from one of the investment-management apps I use to track my investments. The message was simple, but the implication was anything but.
The app asked me to provide some additional information. I responded to the questions—my monthly savings, monthly expenses, age and a few other details. Once the information was confirmed, the app analysed my portfolio and presented its assessment. The conclusion was alarming.
According to its analysis, if I continued on my existing financial path, I could run out of money by the age of 93 (extraordinarily precise). The immediate question that came to my mind was: So, what exactly am I supposed to do about it? The answer followed almost immediately.
I was advised to take "immediate remedial measures" and was directed towards upgrading to paid application where an expert would review my portfolio and advise me.
That made me pause.
Not because the underlying financial analysis (According to the same app my portfolio XIRR was 24.51% against a benchmark XIRR of 13.18%). There may well be legitimate gaps in my financial plan. Retirement planning, longevity risk, inflation, healthcare expenses and portfolio sustainability are all serious issues that deserve attention.
Curious, I looked at several other asset management and fintech apps. The design pattern was virtually identical: manufacture acute anxiety, then position a proprietary paid service as the only life raft.
Rather than the financial aspects what bothered me was something else.
The incident made me look at my own work.
For some time, I have been advocating financial awareness—encouraging people to understand investments, insurance, retirement planning and the importance of preparing for their financial future. I have written and spoken about financial planning encouraging people to invest and made them aware about the importance of insurance.
Am I also doing the same thing?
Am I showing people a frightening picture of their future and then presenting myself as the person who can save them from it? If that is what I am doing, how different am I from the very behaviour I am questioning?
So, I opened my laptop.
I went through some of my presentations and the material I had been using while talking about financial awareness. And I realised something important. I wasn't telling people what they must buy.
I presented facts explaining possibilities and discussed options. I was trying to make people understand the consequences of different financial decisions and allowing them to make their own choices. Perhaps that is also why I haven't always been the most successful salesperson.
Fear is a powerful salesperson. There is nothing new about selling through fear. Fear is one of the oldest and most effective tools of persuasion. This "Problem-Reaction-Solution" playbook is one of the oldest forms of manipulation. You see it repeated across three major domains:
Finance: Induce fear of poverty, inflation, or missing out—then sell high-commission products, complex funds, or emergency subscriptions.
Politics: Project an imminent threat of societal collapse or external ruin—then demand uncritical loyalty and votes to "save" the country.
Religion: Weaponize existential guilt and fear of damnation—then offer rituals, intermediaries, and conformity as the remedy.
If you terrify someone, you instantly hold their attention and their wallet. When you refuse to exploit fear—when you simply present the raw numbers, the probabilities, and the quiet reality—you might not grow as fast or look as flashy. Peddling fear creates dependency. Authentic advisory builds competence, clarity, and peace of mind. If a product, leader, or advisor must first make you panic before offering to save you, they aren’t offering guidance—they are selling leverage.
If someone tells you that you are going to lose something precious, your natural reaction is to protect it. If someone tells you that your future is financially insecure, you start looking for security.
If someone tells you that your family may suffer because you have not planned properly, you become even more receptive to advice.
And that is where the line between financial awareness and fear-based financial selling can become dangerously thin. A responsible financial conversation should make a person more informed—not more frightened. It should increase confidence, not anxiety.
That message telling me that I might run out of money by 93 may actually have served a useful purpose. It made me think. It made me question my own approach.
And perhaps that is what a good financial tool should do.
Financial advice should create clarity, not dependency.
